Epilogue
by Unique
Summary: The gland is out but Darien is struggling to deal with the consequences. Complete w/epilogue
1. Default Chapter

"Coppery-skinned Sharmad Zeffar's plump curves were covered, if far from obscured, by a high-necked but barely opaque Domani d

"Coppery-skinned Sharmad Zeffar's plump curves were covered, if far from obscured, by a high-necked but barely opaque Domani dress, the pale golden silk worn at hem and cuffs, still with a sprinkling of small travels-stains beyond cleaning; silk was silk, after all, and little to be had here. Patrols into the Mountains of Mist searching for remnants of the past summer's Trolloc invasion found few of the bestial Trollocs and far between--and no Myrddraal, thank the Light--but they did find refugees very nearly every day, ten here, twenty there, five somewhere else. Most came out of Almoth Plain, but a good many from Tarabon and, like Sharmad, from Arad Doman, all fleeing lands ruined by anarchy on top of civil war. Faile did not want to think of how many died in the mountains. Lacking roads or even paths, it would have been no easy journey in the best of times, and these were far from the best…"

Darien shut off the tape player and removed the headphones from his ears. A yawn threatened to split his face in half as he stretched shaking the kinks from his limbs. Normally he did not stop in the middle of a prologue but Robert Jordan seemed to like overly long prologues and The Lord of Chaos was no different. Still caught within the fictitious world, he absently fingered the slight scar over the snake tattoo that had prompted Michael to buy him the Wheel of Time set.The tale's web slowly disintegrated from around his brain and he found himself back in reality. The colors brought on by Jordan's imagery faded with his words and Darien's thoughts were left in black and white. He felt the soft, worn fabric of the couch beneath him and the tickle of a stray hair brushing against his forehead. The small house was silent except for the light ticking of the clock above the stove and the sounds of even breathing. Darien held his breath and listened again. Yes, he had been right there was a second person in the room. Slowly and carefully, he held out his hand, fingers seeking the other breather. 

Strong hands gripped his wrist and guided his fingers to their quarry. Fingertips danced lightly over the high bare forehead. The skin was smooth and warm with the slight slippery feel of oil.The fingertips slid down to the eyebrows slipping in between them to trace down the nose. If the forehead had not been enough to identify the other person, the broad distinguished nose would have been. Darien broke out into a smile but continued his exploration of the face. He gently touched the delicate eyelids and up-lifted cheeks. His fingers reached the soft, warm, slightly moistened lips. Tracing a single finger along them he felt them conform into a smile. Hot puffs of air escaped over his fingertip and he carefully let his hand drop back down to his lap. 

"Bobby," he said smiling at the other man. 

"Hey, partner," answered Hobbes. The smile on his face was evident in his voice. "How are ya today?"

"Not bad. How are things at the agency?"

"Great. Same old, same old," answered Hobbes. Darien could hear the slight strain in his voice.

"Still having problems with Robertson, huh?" Darien cocked his head and looked in the general direction of his partner. 

"I don't know why the Fatman is making me work with him. We all know that I don't work well with partners. Present company excluded, of course." Darien could hear the slight smirk on Hobbes face as well as the underlying frustration and disgruntlement. The chair gave a quiet creaked followed by shuffling footsteps as Hobbes began to pace in front of the couch. 

"Is the problem with you or with him?" Darien went straight to the point. The shuffling stopped and he felt Hobbes' thoughtful gaze upon his face. Darien continued to face him issuing a silent challenge. 

"A little of both," sighed Hobbes turning to the window. He pulled back the curtain allowing a single ray of warmth to enter the room and play across Darien's face. 

"Getting rid of Robertson isn't going to bring me back," stated Darien gently with a hint of longing and sadness in his voice. 

"I know," replied Hobbes sadly. "It's just not the same, you know? We had something special. We were the way partners are supposed to be. You didn't mind my paranoia and I forgave Mr. Hyde. We worked together. We fit together. You don't come across something like that everyday."Hobbes sighed with regret.

"Give him a chance. Things will get better." 

"I hope so." Hobbes let the curtain fall and turned back to face Darien. The silence took over broken only by the ticking clock, their breathing, and the passage of a plane overhead. 

"Don't," stated Darien, his voice hard and angry. "Don't look at me like that."

"How did you…"

"I do not want your pity." Darien was adamant. "I think it's time for you to leave now."

"Come on, Fawkes. Don't be like this."

"Goodbye, Hobbes." He placed the headphones back on effectively ending the visit.

"Bye, Fawkes," Hobbes said softly. "I'll stop by tomorrow on my way home from work." Darien gave every appearance of not having heard him.


	2. Part 2

AN: I forgot the disclaimer on part one so here it is now

AN: I forgot the disclaimer on part one so here it is now. I will be updating this everyday so it won't take long for the whole thing to be up. I hope you are enjoying it. 

Disclaimer: They aren't mine. I'll put them back when I'm done. 

He had not meant to stare but it was hard not too. It had only been a few months so he still wasn't used to seeing his partner like this. Pausing in the doorway, he looked over the place.Darien was seated in the living room of the small two-bedroom house.The living room consisted of a couch and a mismatched chair. The kitchen and dining room were separated from the living room by a bar that had no stools. The dining room table did not match its chairs nor did the chairs match each other.The house was very obviously furnished by the agency but it suited Darien's needs.Hobbes turned his attention to Darien. He was dressed in a pair of black shorts with a gray shirt.His hair was short again like it had been when he first started work at the Agency. He did not care what it looked like now so Mike kept it short. He looked almost normal until he turned those dead brown eyes in Hobbes' direction. Those eyes sent a cold chill down Hobbes' spine every time. It was worse than the silver ones or the milky white from the last time Fawkes had been blind. The sound of keys in the doorway startled him and he backed away from door before it could open and hit him. 

"Oops, sorry, Bobby," stated Michael Smith as he carried a load of groceries into the house. "I didn't know you were there." 

"Not a problem. Here. Let me help you with those." Hobbes liked Mike. The huge black man served as Darien's bodyguard and nurse. He genuinely cared about Darien's well being unlike most of the people on the Agency's payroll. 

"Bad visit?" he asked after a glance at Darien. 

"Yeah. How have things been with you, Mike?"

"Not too bad." He began unloading the bags mouthing the words- we'll talk outside- to Hobbes.Nodding his understanding, Hobbes began putting things away. Soon everything was in its place and the two grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and headed outside to sit on the front stoop. 

"So what's the deal?" asked Hobbes as soon as the door was shut. 

"What happened between you two today?"

"Nothing. He seemed really happy to see me…so to speak.We were talking about my new partner and how things just weren't the same without him.Then he got mad at me. Told me he didn't want my pity and told me to leave. That's about where you came in." Hobbes sighed and rubbed his face. "I try not to stare at him. I try not to pity him. I just can't stand to see him like this."

"He's not going to get any better. He needs you as a friend but even more than he needs that he needs you to accept him as he is now. Perhaps you should take some time to think this over." Mike looked down at the shorter man beside him taking a long swallow from his cold beer. 

"What else is wrong? This is about more than him kicking me out." Hobbes watched Mike's face carefully reading him.

"He's not eating again," answered Mike looking down at the steps. 

"Damn it! How long?"

"I've gotten him to eat one bowl of soup in two days. Look, he's due in for some more tests the day after tomorrow. If he's not eating by then, I'll have Claire give him something."

"He can't just stop eating whenever he gets upset. We can't keep putting him on a feeding tube."

"I know that. You know that. Hell, even HE knows that. As long as the chemicals in his brain are messed up and keeping the hypothalamus from working right, he's not going to get hungry and it's just really easy for him to not eat."

"It all comes back to the gland. They still haven't figured what went wrong with the removal and they want to turn around and put a new one into the next poor fool." Mike looked at him sharply. 

"You're kidding!"

"I wish I was," sighed Hobbes. "They'll probably want me to partner with him."

"Half of Darien's problems are a result of cutting off the supply of quicksilver and counteragent after prolonged exposure. They need to be finding out how long is too long and how to reverse the effects, not putting it into someone new. If it wasn't for Darien, I'd walk. I don't want to be on the payroll of a group that does things like that." 

"Yeah, well, some of us have to take what we can get."

"I'm sorry, Bobby. I didn't mean it like that." Mike was truly apologetic. 

"Hey, man, it's OK." Hobbes took a last swallow of beer and set the empty bottle down beside him. "I think I'm going to be heading out. I'll stop by tomorrow."

"Yeah, I'm going to have go try to make Fawkes eat," answered Mike getting up from his seat on the dusty step. He watched Hobbes drive off before going back into the house.


	3. Part 3

Mike walked over to where Darien sat listening to his book and gently touched him on the shoulder

Mike walked over to where Darien sat listening to his book and gently touched him on the shoulder. Fawkes cut off the cassette and removed the headphones.

"Darien? What would you like for dinner?" 

"I'm not hungry," he replied facing his lap. "You're never hungry but you have to eat anyway. You don't want to end up back at the lab again." 

"I don't know. Just fix something." Darien played with the corner of his shirt not wanting to pay attention to Mike. He wanted to go back into the book where he could dwell in their lives and not think about the disaster that was his own. Where had everything gone so wrong? When his parents died? When he turned to burglary? When he said yes to his brother? When he said yes to his Keeper? Sighing, Darien rubbed his face feeling over his familiar features. He spoke quietly in a low monotone. "How about peanut butter and jelly?" 

"Coming right up. I hope you don't mind if I make me some nice hot soup to go along with the sandwiches." Mike's voice was filled with warmth. It smiled at him hiding the relief Mike felt at getting him to agree to eat. Impulsively, Darien reached out for Mike's arm but barely missed hitting him in the head catching his shoulder instead. Mike patted him on the hand before moving off into the kitchen to heat the soup. 

Darien sat their silently listening to the slightly hollow thuds of the cabinets opening and closing as Mike pulled out a pot and a can of soup. The whir of the can opener and the plunk of the soup falling out of the can into the pot were followed by running water. Mike began to hum to himself accompanied by the metallic scratch of the spoon as it traced its way around the bottom of the pan stirring the soup. Soon the soup was bubbling and Mike turned down the temperature two clicks. There was the crinkle of the bread being opened and the scraping of metal against plastic then Mike opened the refrigerator. Darien set the cassette player beside him and carefully got to his feet. 

With his arms spread to ward off any furniture and help him keep his balance, Darien slowly made his way across the room. His steps were slow, careful, and over exaggerated. He stumbled but caught himself against the bar. He cursed his blindness for making his motor impairment worse. He paused there listening to the chinks of metal against glass. He had a few minutes before time to eat. Mike was just putting the jelly on the bread. Feeling his way along the polished surface of the bar top, he adjusted his positioning and headed in the direction of the table. His hand brushed against the worn wicker back of the chair in front of him and his other hand grasped the square splintered post. Moving around the table he changed his grip to the smooth, cold, metal arch that formed the chair at the head of the table. Shuffling carefully so as not to entangle his feet, he reached his chair. Sliding into the seat he ran his hands across the silky curves and designs that had been carved into back and base of the chair. 

He was glad the Agency had been too cheap to buy matching chairs. He liked how each one felt different. This one was his favorite though. Sometimes at night when he was supposed to be sleeping, he would creep into the dining room and just sit listening to the sleeping house and feeling the delicate notches that formed the roses and leaves woven across the chair. An angry hiss and the faint scent of scorched soup disrupted his thoughts and his head turned in Mike's direction. A slow grin crossed his face. 

"You can't pour it without getting it on the bottom of the pot can you?" grinned Darien. 

"You keep complaining and I'll make you cook for me." 

"You don't value your life very much, do you?" Mike just laughed in response. He bought the food to the table and set it down with two clunks. His chair scraped across the floor and creaked as his weight settled into it. 

"The sandwich is here." Mike took Darien's hand and moved it until he was touching the bread. "Your soup is at 10 o'clock. Careful,it's hot." 

"I don't want any soup." Darien made his best attempt at a glare in Mike's direction. 

"Darien, why are you being difficult?" Mike was thoroughly exasperated. 

"I am not a child. I do not want to eat any soup and it's my decision." Darien heard a sigh and a slurp that told him Mike had dropped the argument and started eating. Darien picked up his sandwich and took a small bite. He held it in his mouth tasting the sweetness of the jelly and feeling the peanut butter stick to the roof of his mouth. "Strawberry." 

"Yep." 

"Did you….did you see anything interesting on the way to the grocery store?" asked Darien taking another bite of his sandwich. 

"Not much other than this really hot babe looking over the lettuce with me." Darien snorted and had to suppress a smile. Mike's tales of conquest were legendary surpassed only by Hobbes' largely fictitious prowess. Mike went on to describe the woman in some detail but Darien ceased to listen after the first sentence or so. He began to tear his sandwich into pieces occasionally eating them as he let his mind wander aimlessly. 

"Earth to Darien." 

"Hmmm?" murmured Darien absently. 

"Geez, where did you go? I've been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes." 

"What do you want?" 

"Are you going to eat or are you just going to sit there playing with your food?" 

"Sit here playing with my food," muttered Darien ill temperedly. Darien was beginning to get angry at being treated like a child. 

"Darien." Mike was annoyed at his charge's antics. That was all it took to send Darien into flat out anger. 

"You want me to drink my soup?" he growled. "Fine I'll drink my soup." Angrily he reached for the cup but instead of grabbing it as he intended he inadvertently knocked the mug over. Still hot soup splashed over his hands and he jerked back with a yell. His feet became tangled in the legs of his chair and they both went tumbling to the ground with a loud bang and a groan. Darien lay there panting. The only other sound was the dripping of the spilt soup as it flowed off the table onto the floor. 

"Mike?" asked Darien hesitantly sounding as vulnerable and helpless as he felt. When Mike did not answer he continued in a small voice. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." 

"Are you trying to kill yourself?" Mike asked finally. 

"What?" Darien's head jerked towards the direction of Mike's voice. 

"Look, Darien, I'm tired of fighting with you. We can argue until the cows come home and we can put you on a feeding tube but when push comes to shove you are the only person who can make you eat. You keep pushing your friends away and you won't leave the house. Now you aren't eating again. Why are you doing this? Are you trying to make this life go away? Passive suicide? I just want to understand, Darien. I just want to know why." 

"I don't know." His empty, dead eyes filled with water. A few stray tears escaped to trickle down his cheeks. "I just…I hate being pitied. I hate being treated like a child. I hate being helpless. I hate needing a Keeper." Darien could not contain his tears any longer. He heard Mike's chair scrape the floor then he felt Mike's arms encircle him. Forgetting to be embarrassed, Darien returned the other's embrace and sobbed into his shoulder. 

"Sh. It's OK to cry. Let it all out," murmured Mike. Darien had spent the past few months keeping all of his emotions bottled up and once he opened the floodgates he was unable to stop the tears. Mike had to resort to a mild sedative to get the once invisible man to calm down. While the sedative was taking effect, Mike went into the bathroom and started some bath water. He gently began removing the clothing from his unresisting charge. 

He picked Darien up as easily as if he'd been a baby then carried him to the bathroom and deposited him into the warm soapy water. He began to bathe him; Darien submitting to his ministrations docilely. When Darien was clean and rinsed, Mike dried him off and carried him into his bedroom. Not bothering to dress him, Mike laid him down in his bed and began to rub his back until Darien surrendered to sleep. With a final glance at the now peacefully sleeping man, Mike sighed and returned to the living room to clean up the mess in there.


	4. Part 4

Across town Bobby Hobbes was just sitting down to his own dinner

AN: the parts between ^^^ are memories/dreams. The story bounced back and forth between the present and the past in the next few chapters. I hope it does not confuse you.

Across town Bobby Hobbes was just sitting down to his own dinner. He did not have much of an appetite but forced himself to eat. He hoped that Mike had gotten Darien to do the same thing. Hobbes always worried about his friends. It was just part of his nature. Darien was the only one who usually justified the worry. He missed having him as a partner. Even after all these months, he had to remind himself as he headed into work in the mornings that he did not need to go by and make sure Darien was up. It was a good thing he always remembered before he went over and started banging on the door. For some reason, Hobbes did not think the new occupants would appreciate the gesture. 

Hobbes hoped that Robertson would ask for a trade soon. He would rather work with his dear friend, Agent Jones, than spend another case with his current co-worker. After Darien, he hesitated to call someone else partner even if that was their assigned duty. He had had two others assigned to him during the time after Darien. Both had been reasonably tolerable but they had only been substituting in for a few cases. Robertson was the first of his `permanent new partners' and he could not wait to see the last of him. In the mean time, he would try to be more civil and not let the man push his buttons because he had promised Darien that he would give Robertson a chance. Bobby would do anything for Darien even put up with that loud mouth jerk. 

Darien. Hobbes wished there was something he could do to make like easier for his misfortunate friend. Mike's words echoed back to him. `He needs you as a friend but even more than he needs that he needs you to accept him as he is now.' Life was not fair. He knew that but Bobby Hobbes could not remember a time when life had seemed less fair. Darien had tried so hard and turned his life around. All he had wanted was his freedom. Now he was even more trapped than he had been before the gland was removed. Hobbes did not know if he could just accept Darien and overlook the injustice of it all. It just was not right. Darien had been so excited at the prospect of being gland free. Why had things gone so wrong? 

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"Something's gone wrong," muttered Hobbes for the thousandth time. 

"It's been too long. What could be taking so long?" 

"Relax," said Eberts watching the other man pace across the waiting room. The entire wing of the government run hospital had been taken over for the gland removal. The Official was observing the surgery. The Keeper was assisting the Agency's neurosurgeon. Fawkes was, of course, rather busy being operated on which left Eberts to keep Hobbes company. Eberts had spent the past eight hours in the company of the agitated secret agent. Although their relationship had improved over the years, there was still a strain between the two men that did not help during their current circumstances. As the six hour procedure stretched into its eighth hour, all the pills in the world could not have kept Bobby Hobbes from worrying. 

"It wasn't supposed to take this long." Hobbes glared at the other man for daring to suggest that he relax when things were obviously not going well for his partner. 

"There's probably been a minor setback." 

"Minor setback? It's been two hours!" 

"I'm sure…" 

"Shut up, Eberts. You obviously don't understand the severity of the situation." 

"Actually…" 

"They are operating on his brain! You may not understand but Bobby Hobbes knows that there are no such things as minor setbacks when you are playing in someone's head. No, my friend, something has gone very wrong." 

"Unfortunately, you are correct," came the tired, accented reply from the doorway.Hobbes spun around to see an obviously exhausted Claire leaning up against the wall. 

"Is he alive?" Hobbes went straight for the most important question. 

"Yes. His vitals are stable. We'll be keeping him in a coma and on life support while his body adapts and we try to break the quicksilver/counteragent dependency. Hopefully there will not be any set backs in that." 

"So what went wrong?" 

"The gland had branched out further than we expected. We could not detect the changes until we were so far into the removal that it was possible to stop without killing him. We were able to remove the gland but not without damaging a large amount of the surrounding brain tissue. Most of the damage was done to the occipital lobe with a lesser degree to the cerebellum." 

"What does that mean?" "The area of the occipital lobe that was the most severely damaged is primarily dedicated to controlling vision. The cerebellum controls some subconscious activities including coordinating movement and maintaining balance." 

"What does this mean for Darien?" 

"Well we can't know for sure until he wakes up and that's going to be a long time from now. There's a very good chance that he will be permanently blinded. The most common effect from damage to the cerebellum is jerky, uncoordinated movement. It could be rather mild or it could be very severe. I do not know what kind of effects blindness could have on such impairments and I do not care to hazard a guess at this time." 

"Can I see him?" 

"Of course, Bobby. Right this way." 

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	5. Part 5

Hobbes signed and dumped the partially eaten meal into the trash can

Hobbes signed and dumped the partially eaten meal into the trash can. The eight hours of waiting during the surgery was merely a drop of water compared to the lake that had followed. The chemical dependency had proved more difficult to break than the test results had shown. The possibly side effects of the removal were temporarily forgotten during the month post-operative. It did not really matter if his partner might potentially be blind when he was sitting by his bedside afraid to take a nap because Darien might not still be alive when he woke up. 

Hobbes did not pretend to understand even a fourth of what had gone on in Darien's body during this time. He understood the seizures and the tremors and the cold sweats. He'd gone through some of that once a long time ago when he'd decided to go cold turkey on his medications. He had not understood the colorful CAT scans that the Keeper kept trying to explain which part of Darien's brain that was supposed to be working was not or even more confusing the parts that were not supposed to work but were. 

Some of the problems had been fixed but the chemicals in Darien's head were still out of whack. Hobbes could definitely understand this. There was still hope that The Keeper and the new scientists at the Agency could figure out a way to fix these imbalances. Maybe then Darien's hypothalamus would start working right and he would not keep trying to starve himself. Who would have thought that he, Bobby Hobbes, would be spending his time at home alone thinking about hypothalamuses. Hypothalamusi. Whatever the plural for that stupid thing is. Depressing. Truly depressing. 

Hobbes wandered into his bedroom and slipped on pair of black, silk, pajama bottoms. Coming back into the living room, he fixed himself a scotch and tried to relax. He cut on the TV and began flipping through the channels but nothing could keep his attention and he felt his mind pulling inexorably towards the past. The surgery and the month that followed had been hell but nothing had compared to when he had to tell Darien what went wrong. 

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"Good Morning, Bobby," said Claire as he entered the hospital room that had been set up at the Agency when Darien had been transferred. 

"We are going to wake Darien up today. Do you want to be there?" Hobbes stared at Claire. 

"He's my partner," he replied as though that answered everything. Claire merely nodded having expected that answer. She finished filling the latest vial with blood and left to analyze it. Hobbes glanced at his watch and saw that he had another half an hour before he had to report to the Official. Scooting a chair over beside Darien's bed he sat down and regarded his partner. Darien was too pale from illness and being indoors but his head was no longer bald. He was painfully thin from having to depend on outside nourishment but the bags were gone from beneath his eyes and his face was peaceful. He looked much better than he had even a week ago. Darien twitched and shifted in his sleep. The drugs keeping him comatose were beginning to wear off as the Keeper allowed him to inch closer to consciousness. Hobbes glanced at his watch again and sighed. His scrutiny of his partner had taken longer than he thought and he now had to report to the Official. Grasping Darien's limp hand, he leaned over and spoke quietly to the sleeping man.

"Darien, I have to go see the Fatman but I'm going to be back soon. I'll be here for you when you wake up I promise." Hobbes stood and walked out of the labs. He stopped for a moment in his office to pick up his last report before making his way to the Official's office. He entered confidently not at all bothered by the fact that he was late. Eberts looked up from a report he was reading as Hobbes slid into his chair. The Official glared at him for his tardiness but did not reprimand him knowing not only where he had been but also that any reprimand would do no good. 

"Do you have your report?" 

"Here," replied Hobbes holding it out for Eberts to give to the Official. The room was silent as the Official read over the report. Eberts stood slightly behind him so that he too could read. 

"Very well," said the Official as he finished. "You have the rest of the day off." 

"Excuse me?" 

"We are well aware that the Keeper is waking Fawkes today. You would be unable to accomplish much at work even if you did not insist on being present so I am giving you the day off. You won't be paid, of course. We do not have the funds to be giving free paid vacation days." 

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate it." Hobbes could not hide his surprise at the unlikely act of kindness. He knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth though and he hurried back down to the labs before anyone changed their minds. 

He settled back into the chair that he had just vacated. His partner was stirring restlessly as he came closer and closer to waking. Hobbes gently began rubbing his shoulder hoping to soothe him. Fawkes sighed softly and stilled. He hoped that when Fawkes woke up this whole nightmare would be done. Between working without a partner for the first time in years and having no one around to share his burden, Hobbes had grown very lonely. Talking to Claire could have helped but she had been in doctor mode since the surgery and had completely blocked off all of her emotions in order to accomplish what needed to be done. Breaking the silence, Fawkes suddenly twisted and let out a groan. 

"Claire! Keeper, I think he's waking up!," yelled Hobbes staring fixedly at his partner. Darien groaned again and scrunched his face into a grimace. 

"Bobby?" he croaked questioningly barely loud enough to be heard. 

"Hey, Fawkes, how do you feel?" asked Hobbes gently taking his partner's hand. 

"Crappy." 

"That's good to hear." He grinned in relief. 

"Bobby?" asked Fawkes turning his head to face Hobbes. Silence met his question as Hobbes found himself staring into Darien's eyes. Darien's dead, empty eyes. 

"Bobby, why can't I open my eyes?" 

"Oh God. Fawkes, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Hobbes ignored the tears that began to fall. "There was a problem with the removal. Some kind of brain damage. You're blind. I'm so sorry. You're blind." 

"That's OK," answered Darien not sounding at all upset. "Claire will fix me." 

"I don't think this can be fixed partner." 

"Oh," came the reply. A long silence followed during which Hobbes thought Fawkes had fallen asleep. Finally Fawkes hesitantly asked, "Bobby, why can't I open my eyes?" 

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	6. Part 6

Hobbes cut off the TV

Hobbes cut off the TV. His mind refused to be distracted from its examination of the past. Surrendering to the inevitable, Hobbes rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He remembered how terrified he had been when Fawkes first woke up until Claire had reassured him that confusion was normal. Like she predicted, he had been more aware the next time he woke up. The first week had been spent cataloging everything that had been damaged. He had stayed unnaturally calm through more tests than Hobbes could count. As the list of life changing defects grew, Fawkes had remained unaffected courteous of the half dozen or so drugs they had kept him high on. Hobbes shook his head wishing even after all this time that he could kill the doctor or technician who had had the idea of drugging him. Once all of their tests had been run, they had had no longer felt the need to keep him cushioned with drugs and Hobbes had almost lost him again when he crashed. 

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"Stay away from me!" 

Hobbes entered the labs to be greeted by shouts and a crash coming from the direction of Darien's room. A technician intercepted him before he could investigate and took him to see Claire. She was standing in the middle of her old Keep listening to four assistants vie for her attention. Hobbes had never seen her so harrowed. She looked up and caught sight of him. 

"Bobby," she said moving over to speak with him. "I'm glad you're here. We need you to try to talk to Darien." 

"Why? What's wrong with Fawkes?" 

"We took him off the medication last night and it's just recently started to wear off. I'm afraid he is not reacting very well. I would have given him more but none of us can get near him." 

"I get it. You've screwed him up again and you want Bobby Hobbes to go in there and fix your mess. Fawkes isn't a lab rat. You have the gland. Why do you need to screw with him?" 

"Bobby!" exclaimed Claire feeling hurt that Hobbes would talk to her like that. "We needed the information. Darien is still very much involved with the Quicksilver project. We are just trying to help him." 

"Just let me see my partner," replied Hobbes turning around and heading for Darien's room. The room was a mess. Everything thathad been within arms reach of Darien was now scattered on the floor in the direction of the door. Darien was huddled up against the wall at the head of his bed with his knees drawn up to his chin. Being careful not to step on anything, Hobbes wove his way to the bed. Reaching his hand out, he hesitantly touched his partner's shoulder. 

"Darien?" 

"Don't touch me!" shouted Darien flinging an arm out to push the offending hand away. "Leave me alone!" 

"Come on, partner," replied Hobbes softly taking a small step back. "Don't be like this." 

"Why not?" snarled Darien. "Why shouldn't I be angry?" 

"Fawkes." 

"SHUT UP!" yelled Darien putting his hands over his ears. "I don't want to hear it! Shut up! Go away!" 

"Sorry, I can't do that. Bobby Hobbes does not bail even when you want me to." "Please," begged Darien tears streaming unheeded down his face. "Leave me alone." Darien tried to get out of the bed but his limbs became tangled and he tumbled to the floor. Humiliated, he pressed his cheek into the cool hard floor. Hobbes reached down and help him into a sitting position. 

"Are you hurt?" he asked gently. Darien shook his head `no'. 

"Leave me alone," whispered Fawkes clinging to Hobbes as though his life depended on it. "Please. Just leave me alone." 

"We'll get through this," replied Hobbes holding the younger man and stroking his hair. "We'll get through it together. I'm not going to leave you. I'll never leave you." 

"Want to leave but not alone," murmured Fawkes to himself."Waiting. Gotta be alone. Why won't they leave? Waiting." Slowly sleep overcame the former secret agent and he relaxed into Hobbes' arms. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

After the initially violent outburst, Darien had closed him off from everyone. Claire and the others had wanted to put him back on the drugs but Hobbes had refused to allow it. Surprisingly the Official had seconded the opinion. Darien had willingly completed his rehabilitation to rebuild lost muscle and submitted to tests but had not interacted with anyone. It had been hard for Hobbes to watch his partner refuse to eat or speak. Just when some of the doctors had decided that Darien would be best of being committed, he had began to respond hesitantly to first Hobbes then Claire. Getting him to eat again had been the most difficult. They had put him on a feeding tube, which restricted his already limited movement leading him to start eating again, but as soon as they had removed the tube he had began refusing food. Despite the progress they had made since then, it was an on going problem. It was hard to maintain interest in food when the person was incapable of hunger. About the only thing that was guaranteed to tempt Fawkes' taste buds was chocolate. 

Hobbes glanced at the clock groaning at the time. He pushed himself up off of the couch and stumbled towards the bathroom. Brushing his teeth and the remains of his hair, Hobbes efficiently got ready for bed. Stopping to check the locks on his door, he made a quick sweep of his apartment then headed into his bedroom. 


	7. part 7

Darien shifted in his sleep

Darien shifted in his sleep. Memories flitted through his dream disturbing his rest. 

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"Hey, Claire," greeted Darien entering the Keep. "I'm in for a fillup." 

"Darien." She smiled at him broadly. "I have some very good news, " she said as she slid the needle into his vein releasing the counteragent into his system. 

"Good news? Am I getting a vacation?" 

"Better. I can remove the gland." 

"What?" Darien stared at her open-mouthed searching for signs that this was a joke. 

"Last month the labs made a new breakthrough in the analysis of the gland and a new possible solution for removal resulted. I received the final test results this morning. We can remove the gland." 

"Thank you! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" he yelled grabbing his keeper into a giant hug making her go "Eep." as all of the air was squished from her lungs. 

"Darien! Darien, put me down," she laughed hitting him playfully over the head with a file as he picked her up and danced her around the room. "I mean it. There are some risks with the procedure and I need to know that you understand them before you agree to this." 

"What kind of risks?" asked Darien immediately becoming serious. "It hasn't been 100% successful during test procedures. We've been able to remove the gland for a long time but your body has become dependent on it for survival. The procedure we have developed to break the dependence only has a 75% total success rate. There is a 95% partial success rate but it is still a risk." 

"Would you agree if it was your choice?" he asked watching her intently. 

"Yes," she answered with no hesitation. 

"Then when can we do it?" he asked with a grin. 

"Well, we have some tests to run on you but I don't see why you can't be glandless by the end of the week." 

"Great! Thanks, Claire!" He kissed her quickly on the cheek. Suddenly his face lit up. "Oh! I've got to go tell Hobbes!" With that he raced out of the Keep. It was the happiest day of his life. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 


	8. part 8

Hobbes settled into his bed and quickly fell asleep hoping to escape the dark thoughts he had been wrestling with all night

Hobbes settled into his bed and quickly fell asleep hoping to escape the dark thoughts he had been wrestling with all night. The past followed him into his bed and his dreams were plagued by memories.

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"Hobbes! Hobbes! Guess what?!"

Bobby Hobbes looked up from the report he was working on to see his partner bound into the room. Fawkes was grinning like a teenager who had just found out his crush liked him. He could not help smiling at the younger man as he asked, "What is it, partner?" 

"I'm gonna be a free man, Hobbes! They figured out how to take the gland out!!" Darien was practically shouting with glee. As Hobbes stood up, Darien came around the desk and threw his arms around his partner. 

"Wow. That's great, Fawkes!" answered Bobby enthusiastically. He returned Darien's hug as he asked, "Man, when's the big day?" 

"Claire says by the end of the week." 

"That's great," repeated Hobbes. 

"A week," stated Darien dreamily. "We'll still be friends won't we? I mean, we won't be working together anymore but we can still hang out together right?" asked Darien meeting Hobbes' gaze with serious, slightly worried eyes. 

"Of course, partner. Come on. Let's go get some lunch to celebrate. I'm buying," Hobbes heard himself reply still watching those dark, brown eyes. It was that image that he remembered most about the day he lost the best partner he would ever have. The dream shifted and Hobbes found himself staring into another set of dark brown eyes. These eyes were filled with fear and worry. They met his searching for reassurance. He slipped his hand down to grasp his partner's hand. A grimace flickered across his face as Darien clinched his hand in a death grip. 

"Calm down. There's nothing to worry about. The Keeper is going to take care of you." Hobbes kept his voice gentle and soothing. 

"That's what they said last time!" answered Fawkes with a note of panic in his voice. 

"Nothing's going to go wrong. You're going to go in there and have that annoying little gland removed from your brain and when you wake up we'll go out to celebrate." Hobbes could feel the death grip loosen but Fawkes did not release his hand. "I'll take you down to the bar and introduce you to a few of my ladies. How does that sound?" 

"Sounds pretty good," answered Darien relaxing enough to attempt a small smile. "Thanks, Bobby." 

"What are partners for? Now you go with these gentlemen. Everything's going to be all right. You'll see." Darien did not release Hobbes' gaze until the doors to the operating room swung shut between them. Neither man knew it then but that would be the last time Darien would see his partner. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 


	9. Part 9

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

Darien opened his eyes and found himself surrounded in white. The light hurt his eyes and he squinted trying to look past the brightness. He was in a room. It was completely white. There was no color anywhere. There was no entrance to the room and certainly no way out of it. He circled the room examining the walls fighting the overwhelming feeling of oppression they caused. 

"I came to help," said a familiar voice behind him. Darien spun around and saw a man dressed in black. Darien could not take his eyes off the sudden spot of color. It soothed his eyes and calmed him at the same moment the felt a shiver of fear run down his spine. Darien looked up at his towering, older brother and flinched at the disappointment he found there. 

"How can you help me?" whispered Darien softly. 

"The folks I worked for looked into you. We are ready for a volunteer." 

"A volunteer," stated Darien. 

"It's nothing I can't reverse. Trust me." 

"Yes, trust me, Dahrien," stated another voice from behind. Darien spun around to find Claire standing there wearing light blue. The color was not as soothing against the white but it produced a longing inside Darien. She did not tower over him the way Kevin did but he still had to look up to meet her face. 

"I don't know," he answered uncertainly. "I don't want to be a lab rat or a slave." 

"It's better than throwing your life away," answered Kevin as though he was asking a reasonable thing. 

"You have a gift, mate," replied Claire. 

"Why should I trust you?" 

"Because you don't have much choice." 

"Trust works both ways." 

"Do you promise it will be OK?" he asked innocently looking up at the two of them. 

"Trust us." Slowly Darien's hands reached out and carefully took their hands. 

"I trust you." As the words left his mouth, a door appeared in the wall of the white prison. Smiling he walked with them into the long red hallway. The walls pulsed with the bright red color. It glistened and shimmered as though it was wet. A faint metallic scent filled the area. Suddenly Kevin stopped and let go of his hand. Darien looked at him silently begging him to stay. Kevin turned and walked back down the hallway his steps echoing in the silence. Kevin reached the doorway and shut the door behind him as he left. 

Darien wanted to chase after him but Claire was walking forward and he was compelled to continue on. Silently they traveled for a few minutes, or a few hours, or a few days. Infinity became finite and their destination stood before them in the form of a silver metal door. It slid open behind Darien as he turned to face Claire. She smiled at him as she met his eyes. She stepped forward gently herding him backwards until he reached the edge of the doorway. Still smiling she placed a graceful hand onto his chest and pushed. Down he fell. Falling. Falling. Plummeting into the darkness. The blackness consumed him. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

"Nooooooooooooooo!" screamed Darien breaking the stillness of the night. He bolted upright in the bed panting. The darkness surrounded him. His unwanted companion for all eternity. A searing agony tore through his soul mingling with the remnants of betrayal from the dream. Never had he felt such hopelessness, loneliness, or sorrow. A single dream took every wound he had ever suffered and opened them. From a distance he heard a voice that he vaguely recognized as his own. "Nononononononono." Strong, gentle arms enveloped him giving him a careful squeeze. 

"It's OK. It's just a dream," came the soothingly deep voice. Hands stroked his hair brushing away the dream fragments. Slowly he calmed falling silent simply allowing himself to be rocked. The trembling that he had not been aware of eased. 

"They promised. They told me it would be OK and I trusted them," he told the other man brokenly. 

"It was just a dream, Dare." 

"I trusted them," he said simply. "They promised. Why did they lie?" he asked innocently turning his wet face up towards Mike. 

"I'm sure they didn't mean to lie," he answered stroking the ex-agent's back. "I'm sure they did their best." 

"I shouldn't have trusted them," yawned Darien. "Can't trust anyone," he mumbled snuggling back into the covers. "Just me. Just me and Hobbes. Always Bobby." 

With that Darien fell into a dreamless but restless sleep. Mike continued to sit beside him watching over him. He was very protective of his charge and he wanted to be there to keep the dreams away and comfort him when he woke. 

AN: I know a lot of people have already read this but could I have a few reviews from the ones who haven't? I'm starting to get a little paranoid here.


	10. Part 10

Darien slowly realized that he was awake and stretched under the covers

Darien slowly realized that he was awake and stretched under the covers. He groaned as he thought he felt the bright happy sun beating down on his face. He did not want to get up and meet the beautiful day. He was angry and depressed. He heard a slight rumbling that he recognized as thunder. `So maybe my estimate of the day wasn't quite right,' he thought with a slight smile. He could face a bleary day with no problem. In fact, it fit his mood perfectly. He half-fell, half-crawled out of bed and stumbled drunkenly towards the shower. Ignoring the sounds Mike was making puttering around in the kitchen, he shivered slightly as his bare feet met the cold chill of the bathroom tiles. 

He silently closed the door and felt his way to the side of the tub. He reached for the faucet but over shot and had to slide his had back until the encountered the cold metal. He slid his fingers across the straight lines etched into the knob and turned on the hot water. He dangled his other hand beneath the warming water until it began to burn his hand. He found the knob with the circular etching and slowly increased the flow of cold water until the temperature was perfect. He flicked the switch to shower and carefully deposited himself into the tub without falling and breaking his neck. It was not until he was seated in the middle of the tub under the flow of water that he realized he had not taken any clothes off and had been naked the entire time. Shaking his head at his magnificent powers of observation, he began to methodically scrub himself. Taking a shower while seated was not the easiest thing to do in the world but it was better than a bath and better than falling down when he lost his balance. 

He felt almost human again when he got out of the shower. He walked out of the bathroom the same way he walked in not caring that Mike might see him in his birthday suit. He pulled on a pair of boxers and plopped down on his bed. Getting dressed used to be so much fun. He had had his own unique style that not everyone had been able to appreciate. His clothes matched his moods. Like his hair, they reflected him. Again like his hair, they were now tailored to fit Mike's tastes. Most of the times he did not mind. He could no longer see to fix his hair and it had been getting harder to tame. The same had gone for his clothes. Mike had threatened to burn his clothes if he did not let Mike go out and buy him some more appropriate ones. Now everything Darien owned matched perfectly with everything else. It was boring and unimaginative. He added it to the list of things in his life that were controlled by other people. He pulled out a shirt and pants and slipped them on him. 

By the time Darien sat down for breakfast, the thunder had faded away leaving light showers. He ate uncomplainingly clearing everything Mike put on his plate. The other man tried to maintain light conversation but finally gave-up. Although he felt more human, Darien was still not in the best of moods and he did not feel like meaningless chatter. After breakfast he tried to help with the dishes but Mike shooed him away. Left with nothing to do he fetched his headphones and sat down to listen to Robert Jordan. Two hours later bored and unable to listen to another word, he ventured outside into the rain. 

Sitting down on the rough wooden steps, he turned his face skyward. He stuck out his tongue to catch the falling rain drops. He laughed as they pit-pattered against his face trickling down his cheeks. He could smell the wet dirt and imagined the worms that must the crawling out onto the sidewalks. He listened to the sounds of cars passing in front of the house and the meowing of a neighbor's cat. Mostly he listened to the sound of the rain hitting the leaves and the roof. `God, I love the rain,' he thought to himself. 

Quickly his thoughts turned to last night. He was not sure what to think about his conversation with Mike. In a way it was a relief to get some of that in the open but at the same time it scared him to have some of those feelings voiced. He wondered if Mike was right and he had been trying to kill himself without actually well killing himself. He knew that he was not happy with the way things were but he did not know how he could change things. In some ways this was worse than with the gland because now he was helpless. He was a liability. He had nothing to contribute to anything. He was worthless. At least before the Agency needed him. He did not know how much longer he could have lived with the constant danger that he might go insane and harm someone. Sooner or later he would have hurt Hobbes or Claire or some innocent kid and he would have ended the problem right then and there. In that way this was a thousand times better. He was still chained to the Agency. He still had Bobby and now he had Mike. Both had their ups and downs.

If he had to make the choice over again, he would pick the same one. The world was safer without the gland in his brain so it did not matter if he was happy with the results or not. He wished there was something he could do about it. He did not need the Agency for money. He had the money from Kevin's patents and from his aunt's estate. He did not know what he would do if he left the Agency. He'd have to go on the run and there was no way he could do that in his condition. No, he was going to stay with the Agency until they decided to let him go. He did not have anyone to go to anyway. There were only two people he really trusted. One was Mike and the other was Bobby and they were both firmly attached to the Agency. 

"Are you coming in for lunch?" asked Mike coming up behind Darien. 

"No, I think I'll stay out here," replied Darien breaking out of his thoughts. 

"Well, you're going to eat." A moment later Mike returned with a sandwich and an apple. Obediently Darien took a bite and began to chew. He focused on biting and chewing until the food was gone. 

It was the little things that Darien missed being able to do most. He might could handle making his own sandwich but Mike had never let him try. He would like to be able to wash the dishes and make his bed. He wanted to write his own letters and read his own books not listening to someone else read aloud. He wanted to be able to walk to the mailbox without falling down. He wanted so much and he feared that he would never get any of it.


	11. Part 11

"What's he doing

"What's he doing?" asked Hobbes standing at the sliding door looking out through it. 

"Sitting in the rain?" shrugged Mike. Bobby threw him a dirty look before turning back to the glass. 

"How long has he been out there?" Hobbes had stopped by the house after work to find Darien sitting alone in the rain. 

"Most of the day. I tried to get him to come in for lunch but he wouldn't budge. He did eat the sandwich I brought him so I left him alone." 

"He's been out there since before lunch! He's going to get sick!" Hobbes glared at Smith then carefully controlled his flare of anger. Sliding open the door , he stepped out into the rain. 

Cool, wet drops thumped lightly onto Darien's head rolling down his face to drip off of his nose and his saturated clothes. The feeling was amazing. In a way, the water running across his skin reminded him of quicksilver. He missed being able to go invisible. He did not miss the madness or the gland but he missed the act of being invisible. He had posses a freedom unlike any other in the world. Freedom. That was the root of his problems. No matter what he did he could not gain his freedom. Consciously, he forced himself to relax. Closing his eyes he focused on the feel of the rain on his skin and tried to pretend for that moment that he was invisible. It was the old child's trick of if I can't see you then you can't see me. He was jarred back to reality by the sound of the door opening. Listening, he counted the steps. 4-5-6 `Must be Hobbes,' he decided.`Mike would have spoken by now.' 

"Hey, buddy," said Hobbes taking a seat on the step beside Darien. Darien turned towards him slightly. He nodded in reply. "How are you doing?" 

"I don't know." 

"Mike tells me that you're eating again. That's good." 

"We had a talk last night. Made me think about a few things." 

"That's why you've been sitting in the rain." 

"Yeah. That and I like the rain. It feels good." 

"Well, I won't lecture you about it. Spending the day in the rain won't hurt you if you just do it once in a while and that's about as often as it rains here anyway." 

"I am a grown man, you know." 

"Yeah but I worry. I can't help it. Remember paranoia, pills, ect. Don't tell me they forgot to mention that to you." 

"Sorry," he said smiling at Bobby's comments. "I just feel smothered sometimes but it's not just by you. That's part of what I've been thinking about." 

"Care to share?" 

"I've been floating biding my time for a while now. Definitely since the gland came out. Maybe before then. Hell, I might have been floating since I got out of jail. I just don't know. I think maybe that it is time for me to stop floating but I don't know how." Frustrated, Darien ran his fingers threw his hair. "All I know is that I'm still trapped and I'm still not happy." 

"Do you mean trapped by the Agency or by your limitations?" 

"Yes. I'm stuck here in an Agency house. The Fatman tells me to jump and I still have to jump even if it is just to go in and play lab rat. The only thing that has changed is that I'm 100% expendable and I'm not a danger to anyone. As for the other, I depended on Mike for everything and I hate it." 

"I don't know what to say," sighed Hobbes sadly. "I wish that I could make you happy. I'd like to free you. I would do anything to help there just doesn't seem to be any answers to your problems." 

"Do you remember Leila?" asked Darien suddenly. 

"Beautiful blind chick?" 

"Yeah, that's her. I really envy her right now. Being blind didn't stop her from doing anything." 

"Well except driving." 

"You know what I mean." 

"So don't let it stop you either." 

"It's a little more complicated for me," answered Darien. "She had someone to teach her and she wasn't crippled." 

"So we find you a teacher." 

"Yeah, like the Agency is going to let me go. Face it. I'll never be free." 

"Don't say that partner. You will be free. I'll make sure of it. I'm going to do whatever it takes to make you happy." 

"Thanks, Bobby. Just the fact that you feel that way means a lot to me." 

"Fawkes, you're my best frien. I would do anything for you," said Hobbes seriously. He gently touched Darien's shoulder for emphasis. 

"Like wise." 

"Now, what do you say we go inside and get dry?" 

"Sounds good to me," replied Darien standing. Hobbes had to catch is shoulder as he swayed briefly. They made their way inside where they dried off and changed. Hobbes had to borrow some clothes from Mike and Darien. Eventually the three men sat down to eat dinner. 

"Do you know of any blind schools?" asked Hobbes taking a bit of spagetti. "Mmm, this is good." 

"Thanks. I know of several schools. Why?" 

"Ask Fawkes." 

"Darien?" 

"I told him that I wished I had someone to teach me how to be blind," replied Darien quietly. 

"Oh, I thought you meant a school school. There are a couple of places in California for people who were blinded as adults. Unfortunately, none of them are here in San Diego. I mention sending you to one before but they said it was too far away." 

"See? I told you they'd never let me go," said Darien hopelessly. 

"We'll see about that. I will get you to one of these schools one way or another. I promise and when Bobby Hobbes makes a promise he keeps it." 

"It's not going to happen so just drop it!" yelled Darien jerking up from his chair. The jerk turned into a flop and he ended up in a heap on the floor. Hobbes knelt down beside him and brushed his hand across his face gently. 

"I WILL get you into one of these schools." 

"Don't say that. Please don't say that. Don't give me hope when it's just going to vanish again." 

"Fawkes, have I ever lied to you?" asked Hobbes taking the younger man into his arms. 

"No," whispered Darien unwillingly. 

"Then trust me. I'll take care of things." 

"I trust you, Hobbes," whispered Fawkes. He relaxed and put his arms around Bobby and returned the hug. For better or worse, for the first time in a long time Darien had hope.


	12. Part 12

"Boss, could I speak with you a minute

"Boss, could I speak with you a minute?" asked Hobbes sticking his head into the Official's office. The Official's head jerked up from where it had been resting on his fist and he glared at Hobbes for interrupting his nap. 

"No, Bobby, you may not have a new partner. No, you may not go without a partner. Nor can you have a raise, vacation, or new car. Anything else?"

"Actually, boss, I'm not here about myself."

"Excuse me," interrupted Eberts nodding at Hobbes. "Here are the reports you wanted, sir. He laid the papers in front of the Official and remained standing behind him. 

"What about Fawkes?" asked the Official in an overly patient voice not even glancing at the reports.

"Would it be possible for him to leave the Agency and attend a school designed to help people cope with blindness?"

"Absolutely not."

"What if he pays for it?"

"Absolutely not."

"Sir, Fawkes is not doing so good. A little freedom and independence could help him a lot. It won't hurt the Agency to let him go. He's no use to you anymore. He's blind and visible. Why do you want to keep him here? Haven't you don't enough to him?" Hobbes abruptly stopped talking and began to pace.

"Fawkes still has numerous enemies. We wouldn't want one of them to kidnap him while he's out of our protection and defense would we, Bobby?"

"No, sir, but…"

"No buts. Fawkes is a security risk. All it would take is one doctor poking in his head to blow this whole project wide open."

"Actually, sir,…"

"Shut up, Eberts!" He dutifully held his tongue. 

"I am sick and tired of you treating my partner like he's a possession. I've kept him loyal and brought him back when he's strayed but I won't do it anymore. If it becomes a question of him or the Agency I'll choose Fawkes."

"Is that a treat, Mr. Hobbes?" asked the Official in a dangerous voice.

"No, sir, just a warning. I will do whatever it takes to see my partner gets what he needs and deserves. He's not asking much. It's within your power to give. Please, sir." Hobbes took on a pleading tone. 

"No." The Official did not hesitate one second. His answer was immediate and without deliberation. Silently, Hobbes stood up from the chair he had sat in at the end of his plea. Stoically, he walked out of the office gently closing the door behind him. He had nothing left to say. The decision had been made. 

"Robert." He looked up to see Eberts slipping out of the other door. "Let me talk to him a minute."

"I'll be in my office."

"I'm not changing my mind," stated the Official as Eberts walked back into the office.

"Sir, if I may…"

"No." He opened his mouth to protest. "I said shut up, Eberts."

"No, sir," replied Eberts quietly but firmly.

What did you say?" asked the Official genuinely convinced that he was hearing things.

"Sir, you need to hear what I have to say. I can not in good conscience'shut up'." The Official stared at him with an unreadable expression. As the seconds passed into minutes, Eberts shifted from foot to foot fidgeting. Under the weight of the heavy gaze, he began to regret he had ever spoken up.

"You have five minutes," said the Official finally. 

"Sir, we have the opportunity to make a financially appealing decision. Would you like to cut the cost of caring for Fawkes?"

"Yes."

"Would you be happy if you had two agents working for free?"

"Of course."

"Would you like…"

"Get to the point, Eberts."

"Sir, if Fawkes is on his own then the Agency no longer has to provide him with housing or medical care. We stand to save a pretty penny."

"He's a security risk."

"A risk we can minimize, sir. With the Keeper's help, I could create medical records stating that Fawkes was treated for a brain tumor of some sorts. No one would ever suspect that the tumor was man made.

"Continue."

"His security can be left in the hands of Robert and Michael. I'm sure the two agents could be persuaded to maintain their ties with the Agency while guarding Darien. Best of all, while they are on guard duty the Agency would not have to pay their salary."

"I do not want to lose Agent Hobbes' services."

"You can always require him to come in when you need him. The same can go for Darien whenever the Keeper needs to run some tests."

"Very, well. You have changed my mind." 

"Thank you, sir."

The Official outlined his requirements. "Remember that they have to agree with all of it."

"Yes, sir." Eberst hurried out of the room before he could change his mind again. 

"Robert, I was able to change his mind but there are several contingencies."

"We are talking about the Official."

"Yes, well, not all of these contingencies pertain to Mr. Fawkes." Eberts shifted looking uncomfortable. 

"In order for Fawkes to leave Agency custody, you will have to resign your position. You will travel with him and act as a bodyguard. You will maintain Agency security and report back updates periodically. You will also be subject to recall for special missions. You will not be paid except for the special assignments. Do you agree?"

"Making a deal with the Official is like selling your soul to the devil," remarked Hobbes. "Yes, I agree with everything."

"Very well. Michael Smith must also agree to accompany Fawkes. Like you he would not be paid. He must report developments to the Keeper but other than that he may sever all ties with the Agency. 

"I can't decide for Mike but he should be willing. What about Fawkes?"

"First of all he must have new medical records created. He is to never speak of the Agency or his work here. Second of all he must keep the Agency informed of his whereabouts all tall times. If he tries to move and hide from the Agency he will be brought back. Lastly, he must return for tests or information whenever needed. He must agree to all of this or he will not get his freedom. Once he is free, the Agency is no longer responsible for him."

"Sounds more like a parole than freedom. I'll talk to Mike and Darien and tell you their decisions. If it's yes, I'll go see the Keeper about making him a new file."

"Here are the specifications she will need."

"Thanks, Eberts."

"I'm glad to have been able to help, Robert."


	13. Part 13

"Hello," answered Mike picking up the reciever

"Hello," answered Mike picking up the reciever.

"Mike, it's Hobbes. The Fatman's agreed to let Darien go to that school but there are a few very big ifs."

"Like what?"

"Did you mean it when you said you wanted to leave the Agency?"

"Yes."

"Would you be willing to take care of Darien for free?"

"Of course. Bobby, what are you suggesting?"

"I am suggesting that one of the ifs involves you." He quickly gave Mike all the details. Mike did not hesitate to say yes and soon Hobbes was asking to speak to Darien.

"Hey," greeted Darien's tired voice.

"Hey, buddy, how are you doing?"

"I'm OK, Hobbes. Why did you want to talk to me?"

"I talked to the Official about what we discussed last night and he's agreed."

"Are you sure? This isn't a joke right?"

"No joke. This is for real just…"

"There's a catch."

"Yeah. You have to come back when they tell you and the Agency has to know where you are at all the time. Mike and I must come with you plus the usual keep the gland a secret bit. Still think it's worth it?"

"To be free? No price is too high." Once Hobbes was assured that Darien knew just what he was agreeing to he said goodbye and informed Eberts of the decision. Bobby was nervous about going down into the Keep. He had only talked to Claire a handful of times in the months since Mike had been assigned to Darien. 

"Is the Keeper around?" he asked a technician as he entered the labs. There had been so many changes down here in the past few months that he barely recognized the place. 

"Claire? Yeah, follow me." He led him to the lab that had once been the keep. Hobbes froze as he was about to enter caught by the scene before him. Claire stood staring into a microscope with a faint frown rippling across her forehead. Dazed, he wondered how something so ordinary could be so beautiful. 

"Hey," he said sounding out of breath.

"Bobby! Hello." She smiled at him and he found himself moving forward.

"You cut your hair." She nodded putting her hand up to finger the short locks.

"What are you doing here?" she asked at the same time he blurted out, "So how have you been?" They laughed and ducked their heads.

"You first," he said meeting her eyes again.

"Things have been real busy. A lot of new developments."

"I'm glad. Really, I am." He shifted nervously and cleared his throat. I came down here because of Fawkes."

"Why? What's wrong? He's due in for a check-up tomorrow." The worry in her voice could not be faked. 

"Nothing's wrong. Well, it was but it won't be now. What I'm trying to say is that we need your help. We need you and Eberts to make a fake medical file for Fawkes." Hobbes shook himself mentally. It was not like him to get so flustered and tongue-tied talking to a lady. 'Come on, man, get a hold of yourself,' he thought to himself.

"Bobby, what's going on? Why do you need fake medical files?" Claire could not keep the concern or the suspicion from creeping into her voice.

"No. It's nothing like that. The Fatman said Darien could attend this school for the blind but one of the conditions is that he has new medical files. He wants you to say that the gland was a tumor or something. Here, the papers are right here."

"He's letting him go? But I- that's great!" She turned and began shuffling through a pile of papers on her desk. She found the ones she was looking for and thrust them to him excitedly. "This is perfect! I found a clinic that specializes in rehabilitation for cerebellum damage. I talked to them about Darien's case and they think they can help him. The Official wouldn't let him go but now he can."

"You tried to get him out? But I thought…"

"You thought that I was part of the reason the Official was keeping him here." He heard the slight hint of hurt in her overly calm voice. Suddenly he felt ashamed and he could only nod mutely as he examined his shoes. 

"I want what's best for Darien, too. I care for him. He's a friend and a patient. I'll admit that sometimes my concern for the gland interfered with the doctor patient relationship but it was never intentional. I would never keep him here when the help he needed was elsewhere."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Keepie. I understand."

"So how did you convince him?"

"Eberts talked him into it. Mike and I have to leave the Agency and do guard duty for free and Darien had to agree to a few things but it'll be worth it."

"You're leaving?"

"Yeah, someone has to protect, Furious D," smirked Bobby.

"Poor Mike. He's going to have to put up with the two of you," smiled Claire.

"You know, until this afternoon I never considered leaving the Agency. I've protected my country all of my life. Now what am I going to do?"

"You'll protect your best friend. Who knows. You might be back."

"Definitely. I'm subject to recall."

"So when are you leaving?"

"Now actually," he said glancing at his watch. "I want to turn in my letter before the Boss heads home."

"Oh, well…"

"I guess this is goodbye," he finished backing reluctantly towards the door. He was almost out the door when he heard her call him.

"Bobby," she said slowly. "Once you resign this will no longer be the Company's pier."

"You're right. I hadn't though of it that way," he replied with a smile of understanding. "How's Friday at eight?"

"That sounds great."

"I'll pick you up then."Whistling, Bobby Hobbes walked upstairs to hand in his resignation. 

THEEND


	14. Epilogue's Epilogue

~Epilogue~

~Epilogue~

"The turkey is sliced," stated Hobbes as he dismantled the carver. He turned to watch Mike remove the stuffing from the oven. He looked over the kitchen proudly. Despite never having attempted a dinner of such magnitude, they had managed to cook a delicious looking Christmas dinner without ruining anything other than the gravy. Claire would be able to remedy that when she arrived. Hopefully, she would come soon while everything was still hot.

"Mike! Bobby! She's here!" yelled Darien excitedly from the other room in a weird echo of Hobbes' thoughts.He entered the room as Darien pulled back from his hug and allowed Claire to come the rest of the way inside the house. 

"Merry Christmas, Claire," greeted Bobby kissing her gently and enfolding her in his arms. 

"Mmm, Merry Christmas, Bobby," she said snuggling closer. "I've missed you."

"Did you have a good trip?" Mike gave her a quick hug once she had separated from Hobbes.

"I was glad to get out of there. I wish I could have come up sooner but you know the Official."

"Ugh, must you discuss the Agency," grimaced Darien. It was then that Claire noticed the fifth occupant of the room. "Claire, I'd like you to meet Amy. Amy, this is Claire."

"I'm so glad to finally meet you. Darien talks about you all of the time," said the other woman smiling as she shook Claire's hand. 

"Thank you but I'm sure he doesn't talk about me half as much as he talks about you." Claire looked her over carefully. She was tiny standing beside Darien. Her light brown hair fell to chin level with a few stray hairs falling in front of her vacant blue eyes. Her smile was genuine and while she was not beautiful she could be called pretty. Claire only had to look at the happiness in Darien's face and his smile when he put his arm around Amy to decide that she liked the woman. "Mike and Bobby, could you get the presents from my car?"

"As long as you get in there and make some gravy." Claire just laughed and pushed them towards the door. She headed into the kitchen telling Darien and Amy to go back to whatever they had been doing when she arrived. Since she came up to stay with them as often as she could, she was as at home in their kitchen as she was in her own and she soon had the flour browning. 

"All of the presents are under the tree except Darien's, of course," informed Bobby entering the kitchen and coming up to hug her from behind.

"You and Mike could start moving the food to the table."

"In a minute," said Bobby squeezing her tighter and burying his face in her hair. 

"Bobby! I'm cooking!" she said giving him a swat. "How is Darien doing?" she continued after a moment.

"He's doing much better than the last time you were up. He's beginning to plateau in therapy but he's begun to accept his limitations. I don't think we will have anymore starvation spells. He's excelling at is classes and they've helped him become so much more confident and independent. Just the other day he told me he wanted to get a job. Then, of course, there's Amy. Sometimes I think they are attached at the hip. She's been good for him. They make me miss you even more than I already do."He didn't get a chance to say anything else because she turned around and occupied his lips with other things. 

"Whenever you tow come up for air, the rest of us would like to eat," said Mike leaning in the doorway smirking at them. Claire quickly turned around and poured the gravy into a bowl trying to hide the flush of her cheeks. 

"Glad you joined us, Romeo," quipped Fawkes as they entered the dining room. 

"Fawkes," growled Bobby.

"Aw, you know you love me, Hobbes."

"Children, do I have to put you in time out?"

"No, Mike," they chorused.

"Good. I'd hate for Santa to bring you coal. Now here's your plate, Darien. Turkey's at noon. Stuffing's at two. Potato salad is at four, ham at six, squash at eight and green bean casserole at ten. Your biscuit's in the middle. Here's your drink and here's your silverware," said Mike guarding Darien's hand. "What would you like, Amy?"

"Darien's sounded wonderful, Mike. I'd like the same in the same order."

"Coming right up, dear."

"Thanks," she smiled at him as he placed her plate in front of her. "Mmm, this food is heavenly. Bobby, Mike, you should open your own restaurant."

"I agree," mumbled Claire taking another bite of ham. Dinner progressed quietly with only a little small talk. 

"Bobby, can I ask you a question? Asked Amy tentatively. 

"Shoot."

"Why are you celebrating Christmas? I thought you were Jewish."

"I am but Darien and Mike are not so we celebrated both."

"That's a good idea."

"And it was Hobbsey's idea amazingly enough."

"Be nice!" She smacked him lightly on the arm. 

"Yes, ma'am." Darien scooted his chain in and sat up straight as though at attention.

"She's got you whipped, buddy."

"Look who's talking."

"No comment."

"Eberts told me to tell you he's sorry he couldn't make it," interrupted Claire. "He's going to try to come up for New Years."

"We know. We got his e-mail," answered Darien. "He sent me the 'Run, Run, Rudolph' mp3." 

"Mike, will LaTasha be back before I have to leave?" asked Claire.

"I don't think so. She's supposed to be staying with her relatives back east until the third."

"I hate that I missed her. Tell her that she'll have to come down to San Diego and have a girl's weekend."

"She'll love that idea. She already thinks you should hurry up and move up here."

"I have to train my replacement first. It won't be much longer though."

"What do you do?" asked Amy. "Darien's never said much beyond that you used to be his doctor."

"Well, I work for the government doing research. I also provide medical care for some of the employees in my division."

"That must be fascinating."

"Sometimes."

"Excuse me," stated Darien carefully standing up. " I think I'll go wait in the other room until everyone is finished."

"Hold up, Darien. I'll join you," said Bobby jumping up and clearing their plates from the table. 

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No, dear, it's just that sometimes talking about where Darien worked before brings up unpleasant memories."

"I didn't mean to upset him."

"He knows that. Don't worry about it. We'll give Bobby a moment to talk to him them we'll join them to open presents."

"You OK, partner?"

"Yeah, just thinking."

"You want to talk about it?"

"Not really. It's just that so much has happened this year and I miss him." They sat for a moment. Darien took a deep breath enjoying the comforting smell of cedar permeating the house. He wished he could see the twinkling lights and the ornaments he had labored so hard to help hang. A thought occurred to him. "Bobby, why do you still call me partner? We haven't worked as a team for a long time."

"We're still partners though. We're friends. Partners in life, my friend." Reading his tone, Darien held out his fist to bump with Bobby's waiting fist. They were finishing their kids in a secret clubhouse handshake when the others entered the living room. The rest of the evening passed quickly. Darien and Bobby had teamed up to get Claire's present so she received a beautiful diamond necklace from Bobby and a matching bracelet from Darien. Darien gave Bobby a box of coal so Hobbes refused to give him his present. They gave Mike an autographed Blackhawks hockey jersey. Mike gave Darien a Braille version of the Wheel of Time series. Claire gave Bobby an antique pistol while Mike gave him a two day rental of the car of his choice. Amy wanted to wait until tomorrow to exchange any presents since they were all coming over to her house for Christmas day dinner. The highlight of the evening was when Claire gave Darien her present. 

"You have one more present. I'll go get it from Mike's room."

"Why is my present in Mike's room?"

"You'll see." A few minutes later a small furry bundle was dropped onto Darien's lap. Tiny paws tickled like velvet at his hands attacking him as he tried to rub the silky, soft fur. He laughed as the little cat climbed up his shirt and perched on his shoulder purring. 

"Thank you, Claire. What made you decide to get me a kitten?"

"I don't know. Sally's cat had kittens and she brought them to work to try and give them away. This little one just seemed to have your name written all over it. He's two months old. He's light greywith dark grey and black stripes. Sally's little boy called him Silver because he had silver eyes until they changed but you can name him anything."

"Silver," he said testing it out. "I like that name." Silver meowed at him as though agreeing that he liked the name too.

The cat provided their entertainment as they teased him with balls of wrapping paper and playful fingers. It began to get late and Amy's parents came to get her. Soon after Amy left, Mike went to bed. The other three stayed up talking about classified past adventures enjoying each other's company. Just as they were going to turn in Claire remembered something.

"Oh! I almost forgot. Darien, a package came for you at the Agency yesterday."

"What is it?"

"I don't know. Open it," she said taking it out of her purse and handing it to him.

He tore open the padded envelope and removed a cassette tape. Feeling in the envelope again he pulled out a think piece of paper. His fingers brushed against raised bumps and he realized that the note was in Braille. Silently he began to read.

_I am not certain why I find myself writing to you. Perhaps fatherhood has mellowed me. Yes, you read correctly, Fawkes. I am a father. Kevin Sebastien de Thiel was born at 9:18 am on the fourth of December. I hope that you do not mind the name. Kevin has dominated both of our lives for so long that it seemed fitting. Now you no longer have the gland and I no longer want it. Sometimes I miss our squabble. You were a challenge. An honorable adversary. In comparison, acts of terrorism seem distastefully mundane. I think we would have made good friends had the circumstances been different. Merry Christmas, Fawkes. Enjoy your first one as a free man._

_---Arnaud_

"What does it say?" asked Hobbes worriedly watching the emotions flicker across Darien's face.

"It's from Arnaud. He wanted to tell me he had a little boy," stated Darien shocked.

"The Phone had a kid!"

"The poor child," murmured Claire. 

"Did he say anything else?"

"Merry Christmas." The bewilderment was evident on Darien's face.

"Amazing. You going to be all right if we head to bed?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Go. Enjoy yourselves. Just don't be too loud."

"Are you accusing Bobby Hobbes of being loud in bed? He's accusing Bobby Hobbes of being loud in bed!"

"Bobby…"

"Did you hear what he said? I can't believe my partner would say something like that about me."

"Bobby," she purred in his ear caressing the top of his head. "Come to bed."

"Um, uh, night, Fawkes."

"Night, Hobbes," laughed Darien. He stood and carefully made hisway to his room making sure not to step on the kitten at his feet. 'You know, if this had been two months ago I would have tripped and fell by now,' he thought to himself. He put the cassette in the tape player by his bed and settled Silver down beside him on the bed. After a few seconds of static, Kevin's voice began to speak.

"Make sure to pick up a loaf of bread and milk on the way home from the labs….Wednesday's Dr. Johnson's birthday. Remember to get him a card…Quicksilver's thermal properties have never been tested. Set up experiments…." The tape was nothing but a collection of verbal post-it notes but Darien did not mind the banal topics as long as he got to hear his brother's voice again.

Darien wondered why Arnaud would give this to him then he realized that in his own way Arnaud was apologizing. In that moment a true Christmas miracle occurred, Darien forgave Arnaud and by letting go of his hate he truly became a free man. It was with a light heart that Darien fell asleep listening to the sound of his brother's voice, muffled giggles from the other room, and the purr of the furry little body curled up on his chest.


End file.
